Hunted
by Kearbear
Summary: Chapter 3 up!!** For some destiny has been chosen.** The ringwraths hunt for the ring...but there is something hunting them also. Not a Mary sue or anything like that. Adventure with a hunter whose one goal in life is to end others for good!! :)
1. Intro

Disclaimer: I do not own any LOTR characters *pouts but I do own the rider and his horse! Don't sue unless you want to deprive me of my pillow! (Inside joke)  
  
A/N: I love detail in my stories… it makes them feel really there… like I can touch the characters. So I have a lot in my stories. This is just an intro to the character and gives a little hint as to what will be happening in later chapters.  
  
So read and hopefully enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
For some destiny has been chosen.  
  
Born and breed for but one purpose.  
  
One horrible deed, which will consume your life and ache in your heart, until it has been completed.  
  
For some the choice is not theirs and to obey is law and for others law means death.  
  
  
  
His black steed trembles with the excitement of the hunt, though it does not dare move.  
  
A strong hand raises and pats the stallions crest.  
  
The rider can feel his prey draw nearer and he sits up to the saddle, read for flight.  
  
His dark cloak blows in the wind and the flash of lightening spreads light on his proud face.  
  
He is a man of twenty, still but a boy in many minds.  
  
A boy who was born in the midsts of war and has seen more terror than a grown man would not bear.  
  
His grey eyes are solid, as a soldier's should, and his black hair whips against his defined cheek.  
  
He has no name, no word by which any man can describe him.  
  
A dark rider trained for battle alone.  
  
And battle is what he loves.  
  
However his prey is not usual. Not man was he trained to kill, nor elf, but something much more frightening. A mistake of his kind.  
  
A blemish on his pride.  
  
A blemish that must be destroyed.  
  
Something that kills with no mind.  
  
Something that hunts with no rest.  
  
The pounding of raging hooves could be heard nearing and the dark rider's muscles tense under the heavy cloak.  
  
A low growl escapes his throat and his dark steed shudders with anticipation.  
  
Four black figures appeared out of the mist, their horse's racing, mouths open in a silent scream.  
  
Hidden in the forests gloom, the rider smiles, as he group rages past.  
  
With a silent word, his mount crashed wildly through the trees and onto the road.  
  
A furious squeal echoed in the stallion's throat, as its dark rider spurs it into a gallop, kicking up chunks of earth as its heavy hooves find footing on the soft ground.  
  
The hunt had begun.  
  
To the stallion's disappointment, its rider held him back to a steady pace. The beast himself had been breed solely for the hunt, and snorted his discontent at having to match the pace of the horses ahead.  
  
"Patience friend"  
  
the rider's potent voice was lost in the swirling mists. And for that he was thankful.  
  
For now he wanted to be unseen, a mere whisper in the minds of his prey.  
  
A whisper that would become, soon enough, a raging scream.  
  
He followed the gloomy riders at a distance, often stopping to listen for their telltale cries, until he came to a fork in the tattered road.  
  
His horse skidded to a stop, ripping the earth to shreds with its unyielding hooves. The beast shrieked with confusion and eagerness to continue the hunt.  
  
Steadying his mount the rider looked and listened. A brilliant flash of lightning revealed the torn path the figures mounts left in their sprint.  
  
It lead down the trail to the left of the rider. A sign dangled, unhinged from its post, on the roads edge.  
  
The deranged writing showed wear and the chiselled inscription was practically illegible, but the rider needed no sign.  
  
He knew where the murky road lead and he knew that is where he must go.  
  
Bree.  
  
  
  
Did it suck? I wanted this chapter to just be the introduction of the character so it doesn't have much to it. The actual action will start in the following chapters.  
  
Anyways...review! Flames are welcome… though I must say I will have to hate u forever. (j/k) 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Everything that you do not recognize in mine. All mine!  
  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
The tall gates of Bree towered gloomily in the heave fog.  
  
The huge stallion snorted, nostrils flared, as they slowed to a stop at the huge doors.  
  
The town seemed to be at peace, the majority of its residence lost in sleep.  
  
A glimpse of fear slipped out of the rider's eyes, but was soon whisked away by a flood of confusion.  
  
He was sure the group had followed this path, yet no sign of their menacing presence could be heard or seen hovering over the quiescent town.  
  
His horse started as the peephole of the dark gates swung open and the weary face of the gatekeeper appeared.  
  
"Are you to come inside?" The old man's eyes squinted as he tried to adjust his eyes from the lighted gatehouse to the shadowy external.  
  
The dark rider's gaze danced from the road ahead to the tall gates and their aged keeper.  
  
He was sure that what he had set out to do did not lye in the old town but there was something else, a presence, that made his blood run fast and his heart throb. Evil.  
  
"I will" Dismounting, he swung the reins quickly over his steed's head and walked him towards the doors.  
  
"What is your business in Bree?" The sudden question took the rider by surprise and he paused in thought before answering. "My business is my own, but nothing more than a strong drink and company"  
  
He lied through his teeth.  
  
Though a drink would do him a lot of good his business is kill and that alone. The man studied the caped stranger before smiling and opening the heavy doors enough for his two guests to glide in.  
  
The town seemed abandoned and dead silent but for the muffled laughs pending from a nearby inn.  
  
Through the gloom and fog a small sign caught the riders attention. Its decorative writing blurred as the wind blew it back and forth on its hinges. The Prancing Pony.  
  
Tying the dark stallion to a post at the side of the now lively inn, the rider pushed open the doors and stepped into the confusion within.  
  
His experienced gaze explored the room. A bunch of drunk travelers sang loudly at the counter and coupled figures were spread through the bar sitting around the dirty tables. One identity caught and held his gaze; a man dressed much the same as he, sitting in a corner, his hood covering his features in shadow.  
  
Suddenly the pounding in his heart grew violent and he winced in pain, something in this inn did not belong.  
  
He quietly found himself a seat and made himself as comfortable as possible, though every sudden noise sent his body tense. He pulled the hood of his dark cloak down revealing his strong features to the surrounding drunkards. A long scar tore across his forehead, still carrying the look of fury and pain it had originally granted. He had received it not in the heat of battle, as many would have presumed but rather as a punishment for inaccuracy during a training exercise. He was only a young boy then and he could not remember what he had done to receive the punishment though he could recall the pain and fear he had felt.  
  
His face became hard and anger flashed before him, he did not like himself to bear in mind the stupid flaws he hid within himself.  
  
"Are you going to order something?" Lost in his concentration, the sudden figure of the bartender startled him.  
  
Jumping up to a standing position one hand instinctively flew tightly around the sword at his belt and the other gripped to the mans collar.  
  
"All I did was ask a question," grumbled the heavyset man attempting to hide his fear with a strong voice. The edge rose from the riders face and he let go of the man, his hands residing back to his sides, dumbfounded.  
  
After some silence the room was sparked once again with the laughter of beer and merriment.  
  
But he could feel a sharp gaze reside over his figure, those of an eagle looking for prey.  
  
His grey eyes flashed as he scanned the room searching for the owner. He saw him; it was the same dark man that he noticed when he first arrived, though now the flash of his stern eyes shone through the shadows of his hood.  
  
The rider knew that look well; he had it memorized and hidden in the back of his mind, barred and chained, it was one of suspicion and anger.  
  
He also knew what it meant, a challenge.  
  
He stood and walked through the doors of the inn, into the gloomy outside.  
  
Turning back towards the inn he watched as the door swung open again as the challenger exited.  
  
Putting his hand to his sword he readied himself but to his surprise his challenger did not do the same, rather he seemed quite relaxed and a glimpse of submission flickered over his appearance. "Hold your sword, boy"  
  
O o! anywho that's it for now  
  
Please review. 


	3. Capter 3!!

A/n: long time no update. Sorry. But I promise to update more often now b/c I am out of school! Yeah!! (Excuse bad spelling and maybe some discontinuance with the FOTR I've lost my copy)  
  
C disclaimer in intro.  
  
  
  
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Chapter 3  
  
  
  
"I am not a boy" The rider held his sword out and ready for battle. However his opponent still did not waver and stayed where he was. "If you do not draw your sword I will slay you where you stand!"  
  
The dark rider was getting anxious and confused; he had been in constant battle for years and has never met this sort of stubborn man.  
  
He flashed his sword in the moonlight but still the man stood. He could not take this anymore, this man had brought him outside and yet he stands and waits like a duck.  
  
That is what he was thinking when he attacked. Swinging his sword, he directed the blade towards the cloaked man. The clash of blade on blade wiped a grin across his face. 'So the man will fight'.  
  
He was about to bring the sword down again when an echo caught his attention. The sound was coming closer, beginning as a small rhythm and growing to the telltale pounding of hooves. The gathered thuds of 8 galloping monsters. His eyes flashed with flame, he knew this sound. He knew it well. He had been listening and tracking those same hoof beats for years. Excitement fluttered in his stomach as he headed towards the gate of Bree and the origin of the shrieks.  
  
Unfortunately he did not make it far before the most unexpected thing happened. He was hit hard from behind. A strong thud as the grip of a sword jogged his brain. He fell hard, down on to the puddled gravel road, landing and rolling so he was lying on his back. The last thing he could see was the drops of rain splattering on his face and a tall shadow looming over him.  
  
  
  
Small whispers awoke him. And as his eyes strained to focus he caught the small blurred figures of children huddled together and a shadowed form in the corner of the room. He opened his mouth to talk, or more likely spout some nasty words that no child should be a subject to, but then noticed that a piece of fabric was shoved between his mouth and tied around the back of his head.  
  
He had been gagged.  
  
Struggling a bit, he found that his hands and legs had been restrained in most the same fashion. He knows this, many times had he been tied with rope and steel; it was one of the many exercises he endured in his training.  
  
With a few flicks of his arm, which were disguised effortlessly he had his arms loose. But getting untied is but the first feat. Holding his hands behind his back he groaned and shifted his legs.  
  
This caught the attention of one of the children, who he now saw were not children but small men, and it came over and stood above the rider.  
  
'Perfect'.  
  
With a flash he had his arms around the figures neck and used its small body to pull himself to his knees. "Do not move dark man nor you small ones" he gazed from the shadow in the corner to the three tiny figures who looked with great concern to their friend. The dark man stood from the corner and stepped into the candlelight. Yes, it was the man who had played a cowardly trick the night before.  
  
"That was a nasty deed you did" he winced at the man. "Now let me loose". The man did not move. "No you will stay with us". "Negotiation is not a choice! I have your little friend and I will kill him!" He tightened his grip around his captive's neck.  
  
One of the small men ran to the dark mans side and tugged on his cloak. "Aragorn, please," he than looked the captive, who was now turning slightly blue, "Poor Pippin" The man looked down to his small friend. "Do not worry, Merry, no harm will come to your hobbit friend" This angered the rider and he puffed.  
  
"You are sure of your words" Aragorn looked down at him and nodded. "You will not harm him" He was calm, nothing like the rider would have suspected one to act when ones friend was in such a situation.  
  
"I have slain much greater foes that a simple hobbit. Orcs, wargs, and many men with more power than you have fallen by this hand and shall fall. If it had not been for my clumsiness you would not be quick to insult" Aragorn smiled. "It was quite unfair of me to do what I did, when your hunting was distracting you" The rider loosed his grip on Pippins neck. "How do you know such?"  
  
He said this coldly and turned his head. Aragorn stepped to the window. "I have heard of tales of a boy trained to hunt the most wicked of hunters but I turned my thoughts away. I did not believe the people would do such a thing but times are grim and alas I am not surprised" Aragorn turned then to the rider, who was still in the corner with his arm wrapped around Pippin. "But allies we may be. You see they are hunting us and you are hunting them. Tis simple, travel with us and you travel with the one thing that the ringwraths desire"  
  
The riders eyes widened, these simple travelers carried the one ring, the ring of power. The ring that took him from his mother and delivered him into the world he knows now. The one thing that has kept him alive but alas has killed him.  
  
"You carry the one ring?" Aragorn looked into his eyes and saw the hatred the riders showed for it. "Not I" The rider gulped and untwined his arm from around Pippin's neck, who then ran behind Merry and the other hobbits. Aragorn let the dark rider sit in thought before intruding into his thoughts.  
  
"Will you travel with us then? We are on track to Rivendell and a warrior like yourself would be much help" The rider slowly nodded and allowed Aragorn to cut the ties around his legs, before walking out of the room. "We are to leave at dawn" Aragorn called behind him as he left to find a suitable pack pony with the hobbits, leaving the rider to care to his business.  
  
  
  
An hour later the sky was beginning to alight with the suns rays. The rider had groomed and tacked his stallion and was waiting mounted in front of the inn for the others. They soon came walking slowly pulling a small chestnut pack pony behind them.  
  
They set off from the gates of Bree just as the sun toppled over the plains. The rider pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and rode always a few meters behind the rest of the group, watching with the eyes of an eagle.  
  
He didn't eat, though the hobbits whined about their bloating stomachs only hours after they had stopped, which they had to often. They traveled over rough terrain trying to avoid as many encounters as possible.  
  
It was dusk when they arrived at Weathertop, the rocked remains that would provide them shelter for the cold night. The hobbits settled themselves in quickly and Aragorn had to continuously discourage them from making a fire to cook their late dinner.  
  
The rider resided in a shadowed corner at home in the darkness. Aragorn soon strode over. "Something bothers you, Aragorn" Aragorn, a bit surprised at the stranger's perception, looked over the dark surroundings. "I can feel an unsettlety in the air. I fear to let my guard down for an instant" The rider's solid features remained unwavered as he followed Aragorn's gaze into the darkness of the wilds. "You do well to fear. When darkness arises we are at a disadvantage" The rider relaxed slightly and leaned his head back against the rock wall.  
  
Aragorn stood silent for some time before speaking once more. "So what name have you?" It was more out of curiosity and need to rid himself of the deadly silence than of the actual requirement to know. The rider sighed quietly and thought for a second before responding. "he" The rider stopped and his eyes caught Aragorn's. "You have no name?" Aragorn questioned. "No name did I even have need" the rider's voice trembled slightly and Aragorn decided it best for him to leave him be but as he walked away he watched the young form rise from his perch and climb into the bush.  
  
Though it was not typical behaviour, Aragorn let him leave and went to check on the hobbits. The darkness bore down on the group and the horses were becoming nervous, something draws near. It had been almost an hour since the rider had left and now Aragorn and the four hobbits were sitting in the darkness of the ruins. That was when the telltale shrieks of evil pierced the still silence of the night. The ring wraths have found them. Aragorn hurried, readied his sword and a torch, he would give his life to protect the hobbits and what they carried.  
  
The Wraths entered the ruins from all sides surrounding the group with an eerie grace. Aragorn with sword in one hand and torch in other fended off two of the wraths quickly, causing one to shriek off in flames, but they were too many and two were able to corner the hobbits against a rock wall. Merry, Pippin and Sam through themselves in front of the two towering attackers, keeping them as far away from Frodo as possible. The wraths however asided them with ease and moved over Frodo armed and ready to assail. Frodo held them back with his small hobbit sized blade but tripped over some debris while retreating. Laying on the stone floor the Wrath brought back his arm to strike, griping a blade of black.  
  
Frodo screamed in terror but that of another drowned his cry. Opening his eyes Frodo glared into the back of a dark figure, the rider. He had jumped in and shielded Frodo although not without a price.  
  
The wraths knife was embedded in his side yet he stood and drew his sword. The Tall figures shrieked with anger and frustration as the dark man readied his attack. Crimson blood soaked down his leg as the hobbits watched on with fear as he fended off the towering shadows. His sword flashed in the dim moonlight, never halting until the last of the ringwraths were gone, gliding doomfully into the residing darkness.  
  
Aragorn ran quickly to Frodo, who was still on the ground. The rider stood for a second and then disappeared behind a boulder. Sweat glistened on his brow and for an instant pain flowed freely over his features. He had been stabbed by many a knife even the wraths swords had pierce his skin and left vicious scars across his body, but not like this. He reached down and fingered his wound, pulling out the knife and holding it loosely in his hand letting the dark substance trickle off and onto the floor. He for once was staggered; he had no idea what to do. It was not the initial pain of the wound that bothered him for he knew pain like the back of him hand rather what troubled him the most was the cold feeling generating from the impact and slowly gliding to the rest of his body.  
  
Aragorn ran around the corner and when seeing the rider jogged to him and stood in front of his crunched form, which now slid down the wall and to the ground. The rider held the blade to him with one of his gloved hands, covered in scarlet blood. "A Morgal blade" Aragorn's voice trembled and he looked from the dagger to the cloaked form who sat shivering in a puddle of blood at his feet.  
  
"I am fine" The blood soaked shadow attempted to stand but Aragorn held him to the ground. "No you need help, you must leave us...We will manage" the rider's face grew solid again like a soldiers and he shook his head. "I must…" "You must leave!" The rangers face grew hard with anger and dark rider gave up. "My horse" his voice strained and screeched slightly. Aragorn ran and grabbed the crow stallion pulling him to the rider. The man stood wearily, gathering as much strength as he could, and mounted with Aragorn's assistance. "Where?" Aragorn knew that only elven medicine could treat such a wound. "Rivendell. East" The rider nodded and leant forward whispering weary words into his horse's ear, which started off a slow canter and forwarded into a swift gallop as they went into the distance.  
  
He traveled for what seem like days across leagues of endless grass and stone. The great gates of Rivendell appeared out of nowhere and his horse, weary and covered with sweat, stopped with a jolt causing his body to slide off and he landed on the ground too drained to move. That is how they found him, laying on his back his clothes covered in blood, his eyes strained and without anything but a silent pulse.  
  
  
  
He woke up dazed and startled from the most horrible of dreams. Pulling himself to a sitting position he looked around the room. White silk curtains rose and fell in the breeze from a nearby window and the room was decorated to the finest details. There was no person in sight but a faint song could be heard on the wind.  
  
Looking down at his bare chest, his solid abs defined in the light, he inspected his wound, which was wrapped in bandages but still was painful. He stood up, sliding off the feather bed and walked around the room until he found the large oak door. He opened it, looking cautiously down the endless hallways.  
  
He wandered without sight of a soul for quite some time before he caught wind of voices quarrelling not far away. Following the voices he came upon a stone balcony, which looked down to a great council and sitting on a stand in the middle of the circle was the one ring. How he loathed it.  
  
Glancing around the circle he recognised Aragorn and Frodo but the others he had not seen before. They were fighting about something that the rider could not seem to find their reasoning.  
  
Suddenly an elven maid walked onto the balcony from a nearby door and upon seeing the rider began to scream. This startled the rider and he jumped slightly and stood frozen arms at his side clueless of what to do. As she continued to scream, his gaze bounced between the maids screaming figure to the council who had all halted their quarrel and were staring up at him.  
  
"Silence!" His strong voice hushed even the wind. He didn't know what made him say it but it worked. The maid fell to her knees and sat in silence, tears coming down her cheeks. Looking back down to the council he began to turn and head back to his room but was stopped by an elf, most likely the head of the council. "Come down here, boy" The rider obeyed, with some hesitation, although not in the manner at which was expected.  
  
He jumped.  
  
Jumping onto the balcony railing he flew to the stone ground without a sound, landing on his feet. He stood up and faced the elf that had bid him come down. The room went silent as Elrond began. "I see you are well. Welcome to Rivendell" the rider nodded slightly and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a voice in the back. "There is no need for welcomes" The dark rider turned, his well-built bare chest contrasting with his baggy pants, and glared at the owner of the voice. It was Bromir. "It is a monster, welcomes mean nothing. All it knows is war... It has no love. No pity. No thought. Just sword and strength" This angered Aragorn and he looked at the rider, who had turned his head to the floor and did nothing for his defence. Aragorn stood "And it seems you know about this man…is it because your people did this to him. You created this monster than when you come upon him you push him aside" Bromir stood and put his face close to Aragorn. "Our people, Aragorn. Our people".  
  
The two stopped and looked around the room, all eyes were on the rider. Standing in the middle of the room he stared at the ring, hatred swelled in his mind and bubbled in his heart. He reached to touch it but stopped and brought his hand back to his side. Visions of slaughter and darkness swept his mind and he winced. "This must be destroyed… and soon" His voice echoed around the room and he glanced to Elrond who nodded. The rider than turned and left the room, nodding softly at the two hobbits that hid behind the doors pillars.  
  
  
  
There was a hard knock at his door. He had returned to his room immediately, put on a shirt and lay on his bed stiffly for some time. When he did not answer the door squeaked open and Aragorn stepped inside. "Let us walk".  
  
They roamed the corridors in silence at first before Aragorn broke the silence. "A male had to tend your wound for the maids would not draw near. I suspect it is your scars that frighten them" The rider looked down to his chest. He did have hideous scars scattered around his body and face most still furious and showed pain. "They are weak" Aragorn shook his head vaguely. "I would not agree. Women can tame the most evil of souls. I would not be quick to render them useless" Aragorn smiled, thinking of how his heart was defeated by none other than Elrond's daughter, Arwen.  
  
The two walked by a couple or maidens who fell silent as they passed. "What is Nevgaer? The maids I hear talk of it" Aragorn looked back at the maidens and then to the rider. "That is your name" The young man looked at him questionably. Aragorn continued as they walked. "Yes, when you arrived without a name they gave you an elven one" Aragorn halted and stood in thought for a second "The council decided to allow you if you wish to travel as one of the fellowship to destroy the ring. Think about it and give me an answer tomorrow night at the celebration" He then turned and continued walking.  
  
They marched the rest of the way in silence, the rider in thought. Aragorn turned down a hall and stopped in front of a tall-decorated door. The rider followed. After knocking the door swung open and a beautiful face greeted them.  
  
"Arwen" cooed Aragorn. Arwen's face lit up as she ushered them inside. Her room was massive with sparkling gold and silver charms reflecting the suns light. The rider stood at the door as Aragorn sat and spoke with Arwen in her bedroom. A shuffle brought the rider's attention to the corner of the room. A young elf maid sat on the balcony folding clothes humming a beautiful tune. Then she looked at him, eye to eye. The rider's head twirled and he turned and tried to open the door but it would not budge. He gripped the handle tightly and began to pull and struggle with it. The door shrieked at the death grip and creaked loudly. Suddenly the maid was there and she walked up to the door and flipped the hinge and swung the door open.  
  
Aragorn and Arwen rushed from the bedroom when hearing the commotion with the door. Aragorn chuckled softly as he watched the small elf maid open the door as the brawny solider backed away from her, in obvious distress.  
  
Kissing Arwen lightly on the cheek the ranger strode through the door with the rider following quicker than usual. "You must get used to female company or you will be missing the best reward" Aragorn sighed and strode happily down the hall.  
  
  
  
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That's it for now!  
  
Dun dun daa!  
  
What will our handsome warrior do at the celebration?  
  
Will he decide to become one of the fellowship?  
  
What about the maiden?  
  
R&R  
  
please & ty 


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